NOTE: Something about this chapter literally drove me insane, I grappled with it for like a week but here we go. I no longer want to pull my hair out when I read it :) I hope you enjoy!

Olivia felt incredibly drained as she walked Emily to the elevator but didn't show it as she pressed the button and faced her. Emily was staring at the ground, her hands shoved in her sweatshirt pockets.

"Do I really have to stay here?" she asked. "I took a week off of work for this trip, detective."

"You just gotta stay in the state," Benson said apologetically, "With this guy still out there, we'll need you close by if we need you to ID anyone." She paused and the woman sighed. "I'm sorry, but as I told you earlier," Olivia said, cocking her head to catch her eyes, "If you need anything, we're just a call away, alright? Do you still have my card? And Detective Amaro's?"

Emily nodded, exhaustion sapping the life out of her features. "Yeah. I'm sorry I couldn't remember much more," she said softly.

Re-interviewing Emily had been an arduous task. While she did remember more than before, everything was still in bits and pieces, flashes of color or sound or taste that Emily was still trying to make sense of. It had taken about 3 hours of grueling work and several breaks before she was confident that that was all she could give them.

"Don't apologize," Benson said shaking her head as the elevator doors opened. "It's not your fault."

Emily smiled weakly at her as she stepped into the elevator, "Still. Bye Detective."

"Take care of yourself."

As the elevator doors closed, Benson turned and started when she found her partner leaning on the wall behind her.

"You've got quiet feet, Amaro."

He pointed at himself, "Detective." Benson rolled her eyes at him as they walked toward their desks which had all been shoved in the corner to make room for the tip line set up. "Do you even see it?" he asked her suddenly.

"See what?" she said belligerently.

"Watching you two interact… I mean, you two could've been sisters, Liv, that's how similar you look. That doesn't freak you out a little?"

She looked at him as if he'd grown an extra head. "Okay first of all, Amaro, she's like what 5'3"? Also, her face looks nothing like mine! What the hell are you trying to imply here?"

Amaro held up his hands, "Nothing, just an observation I guess."

She narrowed her eyes at him, hating the little twinge of unease she felt. "Don't you Munch out on me here, Amaro. He's plenty paranoid enough for the rest of us."

Speak of the devil. "'Munch out?'" the sergeant gaped, as he headed towards their corner, "That's a new one."

"Don't you have some phone calls to get to," Amaro said waspishly.

Before Munch could answer, he caught the sight of Fin and Rollins weaving through the still-crowded bullpen bringing apprehension along with them as the detectives took in their stormy expressions. The feeling only intensified as they ignored their questioning looks. Benson was the first to speak. "Bad news?"

Fin's face was stony as he dropped his keys on his desk with a clatter. "Well, we only managed to get four of the six finger-breaking freaks cleared and it only took what? 18 hours, counting our bastard friend Whitaker?"

Rollins rubbed her temples as spoke, "18 sounds about right." She turned to Benson and Amaro, "Those photos Jack told you about, by the way, turned out to be of his victim. Looks like Jack's been stalking her for the last couple of months," Rollins said, her voice tight with irritation. "Lucky for us, Whitaker didn't like the idea of a murder rap so we got a full signed confession in under 40 minutes."

Fin sunk into his chair, "Still doesn't help us with our pinky perv dude."

"I'm aware, Fin," Rollins said nastily.

Amaro quickly jumped in before Fin could respond.

"You said you only got four of the six on the list?" The two detectives nodded. "Well, we have something that may help with that. When we IDd Susan Cutler, Melinda briefed us and showed us a ridged pattern imprinted in the skin of our vic's broken pinky. Our perp used a tool like pliers or something to break her finger."

Fin's grumpy expression was replaced with one of concentration as he shot up in his chair and searched through the files on his desk with a purpose, quickly locating the list he was looking for. As he flipped through it, he let out a groan when he found what he was looking for. Or rather, didn't. "Neither one of these guys broke their vic's fingers with any tools. In fact, none of the guys on our list did."

"I guess you were right then, Fin," Benson said referring to his prediction from earlier that morning, shaking her head, "Our perp has never been caught."

Fin tossed the file back on his desk, "Hey, I'm not happy about it."

"I know, I know," Benson said before giving him a little half-grin. "This might cheer you up though. We may have found the link between our vics. It's shaky," she cautioned, "but gives us something to start with."

The mood in the room immediately elevated, "Go on then, what'd you find out?" Rollins asked eagerly.

"When we talked to the husband who got us an ID on our Jane Doe, he said his wife was last seen in a bar by her close friend Annabel Thrush," Benson explained.

"Hold on a sec, the first vic, Katherine, the last thing she remembered was going to a bar!" Rollins interrupted excitedly.

"Exactly!" Benson exclaimed, "Our canvas never found out which bar, unfortunately, we were more focused on the rental car from the video at the time, but either way, that's two out of four vics last placed at bars."

"That's a start but what about the others then?" Munch asked skeptically.

"That's the thing," Amaro said, "Benson and I just re-interviewed our second vic and she still doesn't remember going to a bar. Our canvas at the time pulled up nothing, too."

"And our third vic," Olivia pressed on, "is in a coma so we can't really ask her. We never canvased so I went through my notes again; apparently she and her husband were avoiding alcohol so we saw no reason to. He'd gotten into a car crash recently and couldn't mix alcohol with his pain meds."

"Just because her husband couldn't drink doesn't mean she didn't stop at a bar that night," Fin retorted.

"That's what I'm thinking," Nick replied. "Like Olivia said, it's shaky but, c'mon, it's a hell of a lot more than we had before. I say we run with it, check in with this Annabel person, check the bar they went to, and recanvas any other bars in the area," Amaro said, turning away from them to check as he asked, "Is the cap in his office?"

"No, he's at 1PP. The chief's on his ass about this case and about how the hell the press managed to get a photo of a rape victim in a hospital," Munch explained, wincing sympathetically for his captain. "He's left me in charge till he gets back. He told me the rest of you can consider yourselves on call for the night; hopefully, we won't be seeing you until tomorrow." Munch felt Nick's annoyance before he even opened his mouth. "Now Amaro, before you go off about this new lead, unless it's life or death, it's too late to talk to the friend now and you need more manpower to do a canvas. We'll start up on this tomorrow and I'll update the captain when he gets back. For now, go home, get some rest."

Nick looked put out but moved to grab his things along with the rest of them. "We'll get him, Nick," Olivia said and he shrugged, avoiding her gaze. Sensing this was not the time, she chose not to press him before saying her goodbyes. As the others bid her goodnight, Nick gave her a knowing look and mouthed "Good luck" causing her to blush lightly. In her effort to school her expression, she missed the shrewd look on her sergeant's face.

As Olivia headed off to the parking lot, she felt her excitement for tonight's date grow before her mind inevitably wandered to the conversation she had with Amaro. Is the captain mad? Well, he's definitely not happy. She cringed as her stomach twisted. It looked like she dodged a bullet with the captain off at 1PP.

Once she was safely in her car, she pulled out her phone to call Barba, reflecting on how much she was coming to regret her uncharacteristic impulsivity. As she dialed Barba's number, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she decided they would definitely have to talk boundaries tonight… If he wanted something serious in the first place.

"Barba speaking."

Despite the formality of his words, Olivia could hear the smile in his voice and her face broke into a grin of her own at his greeting. Fuck, I've got it bad.

"Hello to you too," she joked. "You in your office?" she guessed.

"For now," he snarked, "You at the precinct?"

"For now," she repeated teasingly, "I just got off though."

"Good. I've had a very nosy secretary helping me plan our evening," Olivia could hear a faint "Hey!" that sounded like Carmen and she laughed.

"Give Carmen my thanks," she said, "Now what do you have planned for us?"

"First off, do you think you'll be called in tonight?"

"Well, I'm on call until morning," Olivia explained, "but unless all hell breaks loose, I'm yours."

"Perfect," he said, his voice low and suggestive, making Olivia bite her lip with pleasure. "I'll send you the address and meet you there, say 10:00?"

"Do I need to bring anything?" Olivia asked, checking her watch. She had an hour to get ready and make her way over to wherever they were going.

"Just yourself," he responded. His voice became soft, "Thank you for agreeing to come tonight."

Olivia could feel her cheeks getting warm. "Of course, Rafael. I'll see you soon."

"See you then, Olivia."

Rafael was starting to get a little nervous as he sat at the bar checking his watch. 10:09... He had just finished compulsively rereading his texts, just to be sure that he'd sent the right address, as he heard the jingle of the door opening over the sound of the soft music and other patrons. He whipped his head over to the door at the noise and the tension in his shoulders melted away as he watched Olivia walk into the bar in a gorgeous V-neck black dress that ended just above the knee and hugged her in all the right places.

When he caught Olivia's eye, her face broke into a wide smile that made her face light up and he grinned back as she made her way over.

"Hey, sorry I'm late," she said as she sat on the stool next to him.

He waved her apology away, "Don't be." His face softened as they locked eyes, "You look beautiful, Olivia."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, blushing hard. "Thank you," she said softly. "You're not looking too bad yourself, counselor."

"Don't call me that, not tonight," he said, bringing his hand up to cover hers on the counter.

She opened her mouth to speak just as the bartender came over and they quickly ordered Barba's favorite single malt scotch and a new merlot Olivia hadn't tried, before turning toward each other.

"I was—" "You were—" Their voices overlapped each other.

"You go first," Rafael said with a crooked grin.

"I just have to get it out there now," she said in a rush, "I don't know where this is going but that can NOT happen again at work!"

Rafael nodded profusely, "Agreed. 100%." He cocked his head at her while he pointedly flicked his eyes to her lips, "Doesn't mean I didn't very much enjoy it though."

She leaned forward to plant her hand on his thigh with a smirk, "I'm not complaining."

His cocky smile faded a little and she leaned back, unsure of herself. "What do you want from this, Olivia?" he said softly.

She bit her lip, looking away a bit. "I… I was looking for more than just a one-time thing?" she said, her voice lilting at the end, and she mentally cringed at how hesitant she sounded.

Rafael let out a big breath he didn't realize he was holding. "¡Oh, gracias a Dios! Me too, Liv." He flushed at his enthusiastic reaction and grimaced playfully, adopting what she only describe as a 'dude voice,' "I mean, yeah that's cool I guess."

Olivia laughed hard, incredibly relieved. "Glad we're on the same page here," she took a sip of her merlot and glanced around the small bar, "So… Carmen knows, huh?"

"As I told her, she's far too observant for her own good. She saw right through me. Didn't help that you showed up in my office in that get-up last night!" he griped.

"Get-up?! Rafael, they're called workout clothes!" she exclaimed, aghast.

"Call it what you will, Benson, it was hot," he said with a smirk, lifting his glass to sip at his scotch.

She poked him in the chest, "If you keep calling me 'Benson' while you're flirting with me, I won't be able to work with you, Barba!"

"Ah, so THAT'S what you were trying to say on the roof," Rafael joked, putting his glass down to hold his hands up in surrender at her expression, "I'll desist as long as you refrain from calling me 'counselor.' And, you know what, bench 'Barba' while you're at it, I wouldn't want to—what was it you said—ah yes, 'tempt fate' after all."

"Deal," she said with a curt nod, choosing to ignore the little jab at her behavior during the ride up to the roof.

"So," he said awkwardly, "Did anyone… comment? On your absence?"

"Well, Amaro almost crashed the car when I told him we made out on the roof," she quirked with a little grin.

"Surprising restraint," he joked. "Does anyone else…?"

"I think Munch guessed," she said, "But I'm not sure. He's a good guy, he'll keep quiet."

"Good."

The couple took a second to sip at their drinks, contemplating the newness of their situation.

"I want to apologize," Rafael said suddenly, putting his glass down a little harder than he meant to.

"Oh?"

"Yes, you deserved better than that," he explained. Seeing her confused expression, he leaned forward a bit. "You deserved a better first than a rushed exchange on the roof of the precinct." She grabbed his hand in understanding. "If it's okay," he said tentatively, "I'd like to fix that?"

Olivia nodded, biting her lip, and they locked eyes, his green eyes intense and full of heat before he leaned in slowly. She closed the gap, unable to wait any longer and he kissed her slowly and softly this time, effectively silencing all coherent thought. She couldn't help the small moan from escaping her throat when he sucked on her bottom lip and her hand moved to grip his bicep. All she could taste was smoky scotch as their lips parted, deepening the kiss.

When they finally pulled apart, they stayed silent, just staring at each other, both not quite ready to end the moment.

The jingle of the door opening shook Rafael out of it and he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "Now that's better."

She gave a small laugh and brought her hand up to cup his face. "Thank you, Rafael," she said softly.

"Oh shush, Liv," he teased before crinkling his nose and shaking his head. "Nope, I much prefer using 'Benson' when I'm telling you to shut up," he complained.

That drew a bark of laughter from her that had Rafael joining in, feeling more hopeful than he had in ages. It was then he realized how wrong he'd been; if she would be the death of him, so be it. At least he'd die a happy man.

Olivia couldn't remember the last time she'd been so happy, so relaxed on a first date as she hugged herself in the back of the cab, feeling a little tipsy.

After he'd caught her stifling her fourth yawn in a row, they grudgingly decided to call it a night which inevitably lead to a rather heated argument over who would cover tonight's bill (which Rafael won only by the promise of a second date). In the end, he'd paid while she grumbled, tipping the bartender generously as he'd stolen glances at Olivia in what he'd called " that fucking amazing dress." Always the detective, she'd caught him of course, and had raised her eyebrows at him with a half-grin while he gave her a shameless smirk in return.

As she fought to stay awake, she thought back on his teasing words when she'd suggested they share a cab, still a little disappointed they'd been sober enough—fine, that Rafael had been sober enough—to scrap that intriguing idea.

"Back foul temptress!" he had joked, gently swatting her hand away. "As much as I'd love to, there is only one way that would end hermosa, and as alluring as that sounds," she'd smirked at that, "we're both a little tipsy; tonight is not the night." She could only agree. Tonight is not the night.

She almost missed it as the cab parked, the sound of the driver clearing his throat pulling her out of her thoughts. She shook her head before tipping the driver, finally hauling herself up to her apartment. Olivia was so exhausted she barely managed to wriggle out of her dress and into her stretched out police academy shirt before she passed out on top of her sheets, still basking in the glow Rafael Barba had brought to her.

Unfortunately, however, reality came crashing down as Benson woke up from a dead sleep to her cell ringing, seemingly moments after she'd fallen asleep. Ughh… What time is it? She answered her phone with a groggy "Benson" dreading whatever news could be coming to her at such an early—Or was it late?—hour.

Amaro's voice sounded strained and unhappy on the other line as she checked her watch. 4:16 am? Ugh. "Sorry to wake you Liv but we've got another one."

That woke her up quickly. "No, fuck, already?!"

He gave a heavy sigh, "Yep. Another vic, dumped in Central Park this time."

She sat up in bed, pushing her hair back as she shook any remaining fogginess away. "I'll be right there, are you there now?"

"No, but I'm driving, I'll be there soon. Cap wants you to meet me. I'll send you the location." Olivia knew her partner and the level of barely contained frustration in his voice worried her.

"Thanks, Amaro. I'll see you soon," she paused. "We'll get him," Olivia reminded him, "it's just a matter of time."

"I know," he sounded dejected as he hung up, and Olivia groaned and ran her hand down her face. This bastard wouldn't get away with it. Not this time.